Rambo: Tears and Rain
by Dance of the Dead
Summary: Rambo x Kiz Fiction - Work in Progress Title and summary - Another day, another mission. Let's play fetch and destroy!
1. Chapter 1

It was a crisp October morning; the type that would chill most to the bone if they stayed out in it for too long unprotected. With the early hour any breath drawn steamed the moment it past the casters lips, but there was already an underlying humidity that would only grow as the day continued. The idea of the facility being maximum security was almost laughable with the ease he got in, simple flash of an I.D card and the statement that he was expected was all that was needed to gain entry to the place he'd once called home. He'd not recognised any of the people he'd passed by; nor the man on the front desk, not that it mattered; it just confirmed his thoughts on the lax amount of security.

The reception had been redecorated since he'd last been here, brought to a more modern style. Smoked glass tables were littered with contemporary magazines, the walls painted a light cream as opposed to the garish and overpowering vibrancy they'd once been. Even the furniture had been replaced making way for a selection of hard looking read chairs. The receptionist motioned to one of the seats to him; to busy to speak while he was on the phone. Rambo found the welcome starchy and hostile; he hadn't expected anything less. He'd not brought any belongings with him for the meeting with the only person he'd claim was his family member, Colonel Trautman. Although being summoned back to Bragg had come as a surprise; the surprise lay in the timing rather than the reasoning. He'd not been told much, but he knew he was here for a quiet mission, something required his particular talents and who was he to deny his father figure his services?

The well built man turned his back on the receptionist; whom he was becoming more convinced was holding a personal phone call rather than doing his job with every passing moment he heard the conversation. He frowned to himself, the expression one that was most comfortable on his face. He looked out the glass window fronting of the building. The place had the feel the recruitment office that'd first picked him up, rather then the prestigious training grounds he'd gone through the transition of boyhood and adulthood at. The memories he had of the establishment we conflicted; fond and detested.

"Rambo." His thoughts were interrupted by the man he'd come to see. The older man's powerful and commanding voice booming over the reception room. The receptionist quickly put the phone down and acted busy. Rambo paid the receptionist no heed as he made his way over to the Colonel taking the man's hand in his own as it was offered. "Good to see you again, son." The older of the two spoke; an honesty in his tone of voice and the smile as broad and unofficial on his face as he could allow under the circumstances.

"Thanks for coming." Trautman added giving his favourite son a brief slap on the shoulder with his free hand.

Rambo just nodded; having become more forlorn and sparse with his words as of late.

Trautman motioned, much like the receptionist had done; with as much comfort, away from the changed reception area. Leading Rambo towards somewhere they could speak in absolute privacy. The place he was led to was the senior officers personal office. His name plaque stamped proudly on the door in frosted lettering. Trautman opened the door for the younger man allowing to step into the room ahead of him.

As he breached the threshold into Trautmans office, he gave a quick look around at the décor. Dark wooden furniture of a bygone era stood clearly against the lighter walls. Grey metal filing cabinets stood with a single draw open behind a large writers desk; which was kept neat and orderly. Mock silver frames stood out on the shelving and one particular photograph stood out among the others. Rambo headed over to the photograph of his former unit and smiled with the same feeling of bereft revere that he'd held earlier while gazing out of the facilities windows.

"Something was stolen from us." Trautman spoke as soon as the door was closed behind him; getting to the point of their meeting. Rambo quickly put the photograph back onto the shelving unit; knowing that now was not the time for the reunion that he'd been wanting.

"I'm not surprised." He returned the comment turning back to Trautman, he'd no reason to hide his thoughts on the facility and it's lacking security.

"Not from here. A disk of some very sensitive documents and incriminating evidence was stolen from one of our operatives last week. We need to have what was stolen retrieved, or destroyed." Trautman explained, handing over a brown paper file to the other man.

Rambo opened the file; a typed document with the garish red classified stamp across the front page greeted him.

"We believe that the thieves are Anti-American Terrorists who are looking to use the information in order to blackmail our government into wreaking chaos over the nation." Trautman explained opening his own copy of the file he'd passed over. "Their manipulative methods are not welcome, and while they can be ignored to some level the president wants this to be drawn to a close before it gets out of hand."

"Where are they stationed?" Rambo asked, flicking through the white pages in front of him, taking careful note of the amount of black lines that'd been crossed out. Information that wasn't for his eyes. There was something that he wasn't being told about the information he was going to be retrieving and the reasons for getting the information back seemed dubious at best. His thoughts on the matter were not voiced, he wasn't exactly a patriot any longer. Not after the welcome home he'd received after the last time he'd been away playing nationalist, what did he care if the President didn't like something? Or the news of the Presidents lies was in the hands of some terrorists?

"Malta." Trautman answered, and Rambo looked to him, the frown finding his face once again.

"Thought Malta was a republic?" He questioned.

"It seems their government has been busy as of late working behind the scenes." Trautman added once again, giving the confirmation that the country had been as Rambo had suspected until recently.

"Any specifics on their location?" Rambo further questioned, trying to get as much information from the colonels mouth as he could.

"We don't have full intel yet, but we know the Terrorists are operating near Naxxar. We believe that they've taken over Palazzo Parisio and have had the local vicinity cleared of the general population. We're awaiting confirmation."

"Cleared?" Rambo asked for clarification on the term. Inside he already knew; "Murdered." he stated and Trautman nodded confirmation of the younger mans fears.

"These Terrorists have the people of Malta running scared, and they are in a good position to defend themselves against any all out attacks." Trautman added about the small island. "We fear that the Government is aiding these terrorists, we don't yet know why."

Rambo nodded as he listened to the information he was being given, but cut to the chase. It was already obvious what his role in the mission was going to be. Play fetch and destroy. "When do I go in?"

"We can't send you alone." Came the answer.

Rambo gave him a cautious glance. He knew the implications of the colonels words. They couldn't afford for him to fuck up the mission and should something go wrong he'd need someone with him to pull his ass out of the fire or to put him down.

"When do we go in?" He rephrased the question.

"Your partner hasn't been chosen yet." Trautman explained putting the file on the desk in front of him making sure all the papers were still concealed inside. Glad for his sons understanding in the matter and lack of objection. "We we're going to go through our files for a suitable candidate this afternoon."

"I'll choose him." Rambo ordered his senior officer, he felt it was his right to pick the person who may have to kill him should everything take a turn for the worse or the other way around should the situation require it.

Trautman didn't voice any objections to the request.

Rambo flicked over the pages in his file to look at the assumed lay out of the stately home that'd been taken over; looking to figure out the skills the partner candidate would need in order to be good back up. He already knew that he'd be entering the vicinity of the stately home via air. That's what Bragg and his training had been all about after all, it was also the lowest profile that could get him as close to the facility as he'd need to be. Upon seeing an aerial scan of the facility he'd be invading, his mind started working over what would be needed both equipment wise and from his prospective partner.

"Any questions?" Trautman pushed forwards with the briefing, trying to draw it to a close.

"Why me?" Rambo asked, flicking the file closed with the hand that was holding it. The briefing had been of a more informal nature, he put it down to the whole meeting being an introduction to what lay ahead.

Trautman gave his son something of a confused look, the question seemed to have come out of nowhere; he answered with honesty, like he had all other questions from the man. "Because your the best, this is a situation that needs to be handled with utmost discretion, we can't trust anyone else to go in." He explained. "We need someone reliable who will get the job done regardless of who else is sent." The level of skill required to handle not only the volatile situation, but to take charge of another officer and work under pressure was something that Rambo had mastered, his abilities to adapt and survive we're second to none. They both knew it, Rambo just had trouble admitting to himself exactly what he was.

Trautman move from around his desk and headed to the office door so that he could open it and lead the full blooded combat soldier to the next order of business; choosing his partner.


	2. Chapter 2

Rambo had been slaving over various papers and files for a good few hours, while the importance of finding himself a partner for the upcoming mission was something that needed to be done, he understood why it was often left to those of a particular mindset. He'd narrowed the selection down a lot already and this was his third pass at the remaining candidates; each pass through the names narrowed it down further and now there were only three remaining.

The first being a good reliable serviceman who was getting nearer to being drafted out, a family man with a wife and two daughters, his record was flawless and his skills almost perfect for his needs.

The second candidate contrasted the first he'd picked out greatly. Their record was far from clean, they had no family which went in their favour considering the dangerous nature of the mission.

The final choice was a middle ground between the two; a normal service officer, decent record with a few blotchy patches, but nothing that couldn't be over looked. His skills were of an adequate level but like the rest of him, nothing to be bragged about.

Between the three of them they had skills that would be useful, all trained field technicians in the narrower field of explosives. He'd not read the bare basics of the files, the peoples names wouldn't mean anything at this point anyway; just their service records and training. The skill list of the middle candidate out lived the skills of the other two, it was just their record and current situation that was ringing alarm bells, it was their skills and lack of family that was calling out to him. He frowned at the three files in front of him as though it would help him make up his mind about the people the papers were about. He took a deep breath then picked out the middle file, he needed skills in this mission and the other two wouldn't give him what he needed.

Picking the file from the desk he headed towards where Trautman was looking over something with on of his other officers, probably some more intel Rambo figured.

"This one." Rambo stated, handing the file over to Trautman.

The older senior officer opened the file, giving the basics that Rambo hadn't a look over.

"A woman?" Trautman asked, looking to Rambo with a curious glance.

"It is?" He returned the question with his own, though there was no change of tone in his voice. "It won't be a problem." he added feeling like he had to have some return to the question from his senior. He'd worked with women before and she wouldn't be a distraction for him, not when it came down to it. Generally speaking he wasn't interested in women or at least forming relationships with them. He'd had relationships with women before he'd been drafted; there was one particular girl back when he was sixteen before being enlisted that he'd been particularly close with, he'd even go so far as to say he'd been in love with her. His first ever committed love relationship; they'd both been young and he'd not expected it to last, nor had he expected her to wait for him while he was away making war. He'd looked her up once he'd returned from Vietnam, she hadn't waited for him and was now married with three children, initially he'd been somewhat distressed about her having moved on; but the distress was quickly replaced with relief. Since returning the idea of settling down and creating life turned his stomach, he'd seen to much that would turn lesser men to madness to be a part of something that would bring an innocent life into the world and the urge to make love rarely took over him. He masturbated when the desire took over him; but when it came down to it the monstrosities he'd seen in Vietnam just killed off whatever thoughts of passion he had before they could form.

Trautman continue to read the file on the woman he'd chosen, his curious looks turned into a frown. "She is in prison." he then commented. Not that it would to much of an issue getting her out of the military prison she was being held in, he was just curious to hear Rambo's reasoning. "I remember the name now." He added before the younger man could speak. "She's classed as a deserter, she disregarded a direct order, shot her commanding officer; who later died of the injuries." He explained his face remaining neutral.

"I read the file, it's her skills I need not her loyalty, she's the one." Rambo pressed, irritated that his judgement had been questioned even by the man he respected.

"I never met her, just remember the case." Trautman added, noting the irritation in the younger man. He'd worked with Rambo for many years now and although he'd not known him to be the assertive type, he knew when the man was determined about something; he could see that determination in his jaw now. Closing the file again he nodded, putting it on the desk he was overseeing. "It will take some arrangement, we'll met her soon." He moved to pick up a telephone to make the arrangements he'd spoken of.


	3. Chapter 3

The woman was in her cell, as she was always forced to be. They let her out to do the work she'd managed to scrounge, during meal times the rest of the time allowed out of her cell was few and far between; as such she made do with the small space available to her. Being part way through her exercise regime when she'd been disturbed by the prospects of a visitor the guard caught her with her hands behind her head, her body over the side of the bed in the middle of a set of stomach crunches.

"Kiz, you've got a visitor." Informed the guard before he even got to her barred door.

"Since when?" the woman replied,pulling herself back onto her bed, her voice icey and cold. Her hair was short, but not shaved. Kept in a styled bob which had the length longer at the front. A style that had been at the height of fashion for less than a year a couple of years back; she'd never parted with it.

"Since now, pretty high-brow as well. Best not keep them waiting." The guard informed her; giving her no choice but to see the person that had come to visit her.

Her already stern face turn a notch for the even more sour a frown settling on her face. She gave a small shrug and moved to the back of the room with her hands held out in front of her. Protocol to show that she was willing to be shackled by the guard and led away. The guard unlocked the room while another took out a baton and followed behind his team mate. Kiz smiled to the man with the baton and his healed but twisted broken nose.

"Have I ever told you, you look much more handsome with your nose like that?" she asked him, her voice not only filled with edge, but also friendly flirtation. She even offered him a wink to go with her smile.

"Every time I see you." The guard stated, his voice laced with tension and poorly suppressed frustration and rage with the cell kept woman. It was more than evident with their exchange of words they had a history together that neither of them would like to repeat.

Kiz watched in silence as she was cuffed by the other guard, giving a slight wince as the metal touched the skin of her slim wrists tightly. The chain rattled as she lowered her hands, the guard looping another chain with the one linking her arms to some shackles he attached to her ankles. Purely precaution Kiz told herself about the chains, feeling almost a little too trussed up.

"Whose come to see me?" she asked the guard as he got to his feet, before he had the chance to start leading her away from her cell.

"Some high-up from Bragg." the guard answered. "Don't know what they are after, and me telling you that much could get me fired." There was little sympathy to his voice for the expression of dread that graced her features.

Her mind was already running loops with itself, trying to figure out what a senior officer would want with her. Maybe they'd wrangled up some more evidence that they wanted to go through with her over her insubordination. Her face once again frowned at the idea of it. After all these months they couldn't have found anything else; she'd admitted to the charges already, there was no reason for her to hide what had happened between her and her previous commanding officer and her sentence had already been carried out. It couldn't be that.

A pull on her chains distracted her from her thoughts. "Come on, pet." The guard with the baton taunted her and she just smiled in return.

Kiz had been in the prison for nearly two years and while she had been on her best behaviour for the past eighteen months her first six hadn't been smooth sailing. She'd been in a fair amount of fights establishing her place in the unofficial pecking order of the prison; she'd been kept in solitary confinement after breaking the guards nose for three weeks, but let out among the general populace after a psychiatric evaluation stating that she was of normal mentality. The guard had faced disciplinary action for suggestive comments towards the woman which had gotten Kiz out of solitary a week earlier than originally planned.

Her feet made a padding sound on the floor as she walked, her gaze on what she could see of the world outside of the barred windows. She'd give anything to be out of this place and back doing what she did best. She smiled at the fond memories of her work; which always came to a shuddering halt when she saw the face of her superior officer.

"Don't get your hopes up Kiz, I heard this guy is a real ass-hole." The guard behind her spoke. Her fist clenched tightly, causing her knuckles to whiten. The guards in the prison always knew exactly which buttons to press to get under your skin. It was all a part of the job for them and she knew it; they had to find a weakness in the people they were guarding to keep them in line.

"Do you want your jaw breaking as well?" Kiz returned, sounding as cocky as she dared, not wanting to feel a baton at the back of her head.

"That's right, you have a real problem with authority. Let's just hope this guy doesn't have a gun."

Kiz could feel her rage boiling and she did her best to keep her choler in check lest it overtake her sensible nature. What did these two men know about the situation that landed her here other than what they'd read on a piece of paper? Nothing. She tried to give her usual over confident smile, but couldn't keep it in place for long.

The meeting room she was led to wasn't the usual visitors room, the room was dark; a blind drawn over the window and Kiz found it hard to make everything out, from what she could tell there was no plastic shield between her and whomever she would be speaking to, just a table and two chairs facing one another. She could see the dark outline of two men already in the room. One sat at the table; well dressed. The other hung back and she could see him only as a silhouette. One of the guards closed the door to the room reducing the light even further, giving the men she'd be speaking with complete privacy from identification.

"Private Sinistral," started the man who was already sat on one side of the table. "Please, take a seat." he offered, she could hear him motioning towards the seat in front of him.

"Is this an official hearing Sir?" She questioned, though she very much doubted it under the circumstances.

"Not officially." He answered.

She couldn't help finding a smile crossing her face, not one of her usual sarcastic or guarded ones either. Her hands reached out for the chair and she moved it towards herself and sat down.

"How are you being treated?" came the next question.

Kiz was trying to put an age and rank to the voice that spoke to her. She guessed for the man to be near his fifties. She couldn't make out the full details on his suit for the amount of medals he had on display, but she appreciated the effort he had gone to for her all the same. She placed his rank highly, not only because of the medals he had earned but with the way he spoke and carried himself. This man was a real leader and an inspiration to those below him. You couldn't be that as just a Private.

"Oh, just fine. They give me three good meals a day and I can watch television whenever I feel like it." She answered keeping the tones of her voice as dry as possible. "What is this all about Sir?" she returned the questioning.

"We have a job for you."

"I'm retired." She answered after a moments pause.

"One hell of a pension scheme you got here." Trautman returned to the woman, playing her at her own game.

"What kind of a job?" Kiz asked, give the elder man a side ways glance, trying to figure out what this was really all about. "Why me? I'm certain that there are people just as good as me with better prospects." she pressed another question.

Trautman pointed to the other man in the room. "He chose you."

"And he is?" She asked. "And you for that matter." He added as an after thought. Her head turning to try and see the man who'd managed to keep himself in the dark.

"Unimportant." Trautman answered, not wanting to give to much away in case she flat out refused to work for them.

"And the job?" Kiz returned to the matter at hand.

"We need your expertise." Trautman answered honestly, glad that the cat and mouse word play seemed to be over. He lent forwards to her. "Your file tells me that you've been expertly trained in the field of explosives." He said and she could see his smile.

"Among other things." She added, slightly offended that was all that she seemed to be remembered for. "But, you already know that." She added, they'd read her file already!

"Of course." Trautman comforted, catching onto the hint of her irritation.

"And the job?" Kiz repeated her question once again hoping that the question being repeated might get her the information that she needed, she held up her hand as she saw the man about to speak. Her eyes having adjusted to the change of lighting finally. "A little trust, please?" She asked of the man holding up her bound hands.

Trautman nodded towards one of the guards, who came closer and freed her from the tight cuffs. She rubbed her wrists in her hands and moved them about a bit while the older man spoke to her.

"We've had something stolen from us that is imperative that we get back." Trautman told her, plying up the drama of the situation slightly, knowing that it would entice her into doing to job much easier. "We need you and your skills in order to do that. The president has offered you a full pardon upon completion."

Kiz raised a carefully manicured eyebrow to the ranking officer. "Sounds too good to be true, what's the catch?" She asked.

"Your not expected to survive." The other man told her dryly.

She turned his way admiring his honesty with her. She wasn't suicidal nor was she crazy about doing such a job, especially one that she knew so little about. "So what is it that the dear, Mr. President has lost?" She asked.

"Classified. I don't know the details, all we know is that a disk need to be retrieved." Trautman told her steering the conversation away from her impending death.

"So you want me to play fetch with you for a pardon that I may not even live to hear?" She clarified. "No offence, but aren't you a little old to play these games?"

"Not with me. With him." Trautman once again motioned to the shrouded Rambo.

"I was wondering where tall, dark and gruesome came into all this." She smiled. "Fine, you want me to die blowing something up it's better than wasting away in here." She shrugged getting to her feet the chair making a vile scraping noise as she stood from it. "When do we leave?"


	4. Chapter 4

Kiz put her belongings down on the floor, what few she had had been bundled into a sack that she carried over her shoulder like a vagabond. She pulled a small pile of papers from her grey coat pocket and handed them to the gate security. She frowned as she gave as much of a glance over the compound as she could; an expression that hadn't left her face much since initial talks about this job.

Her frown didn't lighten as a conversation broke out between the two men on guard about her and where she should be heading too. Seemed they couldn't make up their minds if they should send her to the reception or the barracks. She felt some measure of relief when she saw someone approaching the entrance who looked like they might know what they were doing. She didn't recognise the figure, but the way they carried themselves spoke of confidence and control. He approached the two security officers and held out his hand for the papers she'd passed over moments ago.

"I'll handle this." He told them. The voice she did recognise. He'd been in the room that fateful day with the colonel. The man before her was her partner in whatever events were about to transpire. Kiz lent forwards and picked her pack up from the floor, slinging it over her shoulder once again, she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, the heat of the place already getting to her; causing her to sweat. Rambo made a motion to Kiz for her to follow him and she fell into step beside him; she couldn't help but feel a little out of place, not just for her lack of prestige and rank; Bragg was for the best, but for the colour of her uniform. All the prison had to put her in was a grey variation of the camouflage; not the green everyone else wore. She stood out and the subtle looks of training groups that ran by made her feel conscious of the fact she was an outsider. She didn't doubt for a second that the prison had arranged it on purpose.

"Do you have a name yet?" She questioned the man, giving him as subtle look over as she could afford. Trying to weigh up if she could trust him or not; her money was on she couldn't. He wasn't the hardest man on the eyes she'd ever seen, and he looked like he had a good reasoning for being sent out on a mission like this one under his clothing. The man had a physique that anyone would be proud of, the type that only came with hard work and dedication and he wasn't showing it off in a cocky manner either; which always went down well in her books. There was something else as well, his angular face had a slightly dopey look which may make some woman call him cute under the right situations.

For her, there was never a right situation.

"John, John Rambo." He enlightened her and she felt her frown lifting as he looked in her direction. A name was a start. "Colonel Trautman is waiting to fully brief you." He added afterwards taking the lead in their walking, his longer strike wasn't an issue for her to keep up with and she figured that the only reason he looked taller than her was due to the boots he wore. "We then have a few days to go-over any gaps in your training." He told her some more information.

Her frown returned again. "There are no gaps." She told him confidently.

"You've been behind bars for two years, it'll have an effect on your abilities." he told her flatly.

"The voice of experience?" She questioned, she didn't expect a reply and she didn't get one. Rambo opened the door to the reception area for her and she pushed past him, feeling a little insulted after his words despite the truth behind them. The man and his ability to be aloof with his answers and the lack of them made her curious about him, made her wonder the reasons behind him being and acting the way that he was with her. He could just be being distant towards her due to the nature of their mission; yet somehow she suspected that there was more to it than that. She stopped part way through the door and gave him a questioning glance, but found neither of them could hold the stare for long.

"In there." Rambo pointed Kiz towards one of the office doors past the reception bar, she nodded and uttered a thank you making her way towards the door she'd been motioned too.

–

Rambo waited in the reception for the woman. His head resting in the palm of his hand against his knee. Lost in his own long winded trail of thoughts of the questions that he really should be over asking himself by now. Why hadn't he just walked away from it all at the end of the last tangled mess that he'd been involved in? No one would have blamed him. Why did he still feel that pull of patriotism for a country that showed no love for him in return? There was still something about this mission that didn't sit right with him, something that he wasn't being told and try as he might to figure it out he just couldn't get his finger placed on it. Feeling like he should be used to the idea that he was just another tool to be used by the Government that employed him he tried to shove the darker thoughts that plagued him and focus on something else. Finding that minute well of inner peace that he brought forth; a well that had been missing since his last return from Vietnam.

Returning back there had once again brought the monster out in him; he resented it, loathed it, but still couldn't find a way to break out from the chains that bound him.

He flinched visible and jerked his head up as a cold finger touched his shoulder, his expression as thorny as his thoughts had been. She quickly moved her fingers from his shoulder upon being greeted in such a cold manner

"Are you all right?" Kiz asked, any formality that she had displayed in front of her superior had been dispensed of the moment she'd left the office.

Saying nothing Rambo got to his feet and Kiz sighed once again falling in step behind the uptight man. She clenched her hand into a fist, using her own hand as a ways to keep her anger from rising to sharply, before the day was out she knew she'd be fighting with the man which would surely compromise their working relationship.

The area that she was led through on the way to where she'd be retraining was exactly what she had come to expect of a military camp. Small buildings where groups of men and woman slept, open areas for various sorts of training methods, assault courses for fitness. She let herself be distracted by a unit of men as they ran passed the two of them, clearly having been punished with extra drills for whatever minor insubordinations their unit had done, the voice of an overly annoyed Sergeant screaming abuse behind them. She couldn't help but let a smile once again cross her face for the familiar thrill of being back among it all, a smile that quickly faded from her face as the two of them stopped at the beginning of one of the many assault courses. She'd not been expecting to be put to the test by her new partner so soon.

"You've got to be shitting me." Kiz stated, looking across at course before her, she glance towards the man at her side, but there was nothing at all humorous about the look he gave her. She threw the bag from her shoulder onto the grassy floor, her eyes not moving from the signals that he was about to give.

A rope assault course had never been her strongest point but she was determined to prove him wrong about her being rusty in her abilities. Keeping a close eye on his hands as he counted down from three for them to start. The moment that he took off she was in step behind him, the floor beneath her thundering with their adrenaline powered strides. Naturally his strength propelled him towards the first obstacle in front of them and he near effortlessly vaulted over the wooden slats just as she got to them, her own leap lacking the grace that his did. She kept her pace with him only falling behind a few steps as they sprinted towards the next obstacle in their path. Picking her way carefully on top of the beams that had been presented before her, trying not to be knocked off balance due to his motions in front or her. With each beam getting higher than the last, she wobbled as she landed on one the moment he kicked off from the last. The moment with the lack of balance causing her to lose out on valuable seconds. Catching herself she leapt to the final beam and quickly jumped off, landing heavily. She sprinted after her partner, looking at him just as he headed towards a much higher slatted fence than the original; upon seeing his raised hand, fist clenched she stopped in her tracks. Knowing exactly what the gesture could mean should they be out in the field.

She took the valuable seconds that she'd been granted to catch her breath and the moment that the hand lowered she started off again, quicker in her reaction for the release this time than the last. Her hands grasping hold of the dangling rope before her using her body strength to climb the rope while her legs looked for a ways to do the rest of the hard work with the wooden barrier. She wasn't ashamed when she fell behind once again, but only by the split of a second. Landing just in time to get a face full of dirt from his boot, she ignored the insult; applying herself to the task at hand, hurtling towards a dual row of tires laid flat on the ground. Carefully placing her feet within each of the large rubber loops with the same level of grit and determination that she had faced everything; when it came to the last of the tires her foot caught and she tripped. The floor came up on her with a speed that she hadn't known possible, her hands caught most of the impact of the fall. She quickly tried to push herself up, but as soon as she did so she felt a hand pulling her from the floor.

Giving just a simple nod in disgruntled thanks to the man she was racing against for the aid in getting back to her feet. She was about to dart off again, but the arm in front of her made her stop.

"Enough." Came a single word from Rambo.

She turned to him curiously, clearly her fumble had been enough of a demonstration. She cursed silently to herself for her foolish misjudgement in steps.

"Go get yourself cleaned up." Rambo then told her. "We will talk more later."

Kiz followed the point of his hand towards the shower block, and assuming that where she would be sleeping was close by she went to retrieve her bag of belongings; not enjoying the being left to wonder at her fate.


	5. Chapter 5

Kiz threw her bag onto her bunk, the action testament to the bitter mood that she was currently suffering from. She resented the fact that Rambo had made her look like a rookie; she knew he was well within his rights to put her to the test, but she just couldn't shake the feeling of anger. What else would he make her fail at before he was happy? She still knew how to clean and repair a weapon, she could show that skill off; though she might be a little slow. What about her precious explosives? She scoffed at the idea of ever forgetting a detail where they were involved.

She picked up her bag and opened it, looking for her towel. She pulled the small thing out of the bag and almost screamed in frustration. Looked like the last laugh was on the prison officers, giving her a hand towel! She slung the small thing over her shoulder and made her way to the shower block.

–

It was getting dark by the time Kiz came out of the shower block, Fort Bragg had a subdued quiet settled over it; one that only meant that the next day would bring a renewed hived of activity. Rambo had been waiting for the woman while she showered, having already planned how to put her through the next of his tests. He wanted his partner to be combat ready as soon as possible so that this hell-pit of a mission could be done and over with; and that meant he couldn't hold back with her.

Without warning; following the stride of his steps he aimed a balled fist directly towards the bridge of her nose. Kiz let out a poorly suppressed shriek and quickly ducked out of the way.

"What the Hell!?" She demanded, but quickly caught onto what was happening. A cocky grin crossed her face. "All right big guy," she stated pulling her fists up in front of her chest. "You want to go, let's go!"

He thrust a jab her way, and once again she quickly dipped out of the way of the blow. She was a slippery devil, but the blows couldn't be evaded forever. With each of his forward jabs she was put onto the back foot; she'd eventually be pushed against a wall or a fence; already aware of this Rambo steered her towards such a place and she seemed to be allowing it.

While most of Fort Bragg was keeping to itself their impromptu fighting match had caught the attention of some of the other military personnel stationed there, and a small gathering was starting to follow their active battle. When another fist came her way, Kiz ducked beneath it, countering with a short sharp uppercut, her fist was easily deflected by the larger built man and she was put on the back foot again.

"Come on girly~," one of the watchers taunted her and she hissed a curse in frustration for her inability to act other than to wait for a blow to evade. For a well built man Rambo was surprisingly fast; the jeering from the viewers distracted her and she was punished for it with a tightly clenched fist to the side of the face. Kiz gasped at the pain, but tried not to let the blow register; but the next one to her gut cut with a deeper viciousness; somehow she knew she was lucky not to hear the cracking of bones, the mans blows were so expertly placed she knew he'd avoided hurting her too much on purpose. This time she had to gasp for breath for the wind having been knocked out of her.

Rambo scoffed at her, but remained his usual silent self. He shook his head and turned his back on her, assuming the fight was over. As did some of the other military personnel and they started to disperse.

The fight was still in the woman and she turned to the offensive now that his back was turned; leaping onto his back, catching him by surprise initially. He quickly recovered and wrapped his arm around her and threw her from his back onto the floor. Kiz landed harshly, but with her feet flat so that she could once again recover from his blow. Using her greater skills of flexibility she launched herself back up, her legs outstretched, aiming her foot towards his face; a warning more than an attack. Her face gave no indication of the anger she felt burning within her. With a quick twist of her body she was standing upright again in front of him. Her hands balled in fists across her chest. She smiled, that same cocky, self assured smile she often carried.

Once again Rambo shook his head, at least the woman was spirited enough to not quit at the first hurdle. He indulged her delusions.

Kiz waited, feeling a strange sense of calm come creeping over her anger. She could do this; she knew she could. She waited for him to come on the offensive again; and he did. Rather than evading entirely she turned her back and lashed out with her back foot, aiming for his stomach. It didn't connect as he dodged out of the way, but she was on him. She knew she could win this fight because she knew how to cheat. She darted forwards and was instantly within his guard range, her arm raised to guard her body as her knee came up short, sharp and fast aiming right for the mans groin. This connected. Within a moment the fight as over and Kiz had claimed victory; no matter how underhanded.

She didn't offer a hand of help to Rambo while he was doubled over from the pain of her insult, only her anger was quick to flair up again and she kicked some of the dry dirt in his direction. "Jerk!" She hissed to him bitterly and stalked back towards the barracks with her bunk in it.


	6. Chapter 6

The bathroom in the barracks was small and somewhat dilapidated. Kiz had been standing in front of a mirror now for some time, not really engaging with the image that was returned to her. Her hands were tight on the white sink and she was doing her very best to calm herself down; the plug hole was helping. When she looked up the face that she looked into was bruised. Her hand rose to the side of her cheek; she smiled; she was getting a black eye. Somewhere along the line she had learned to treasure such sentimental gifts, yet there was a forlorn sadness that crossed her face as she caressed the ripening bruise. It was going to be one of those evenings.

She left the bathroom and made her way to the door of the bunkhouse, crossing the empty social room as she did so. The crispness of the day had caved into the demand of rain, and it fell heavily onto her face. She lifted her head to face the sky and she breathed deeply; regretting the breath when the pain from the second blow she'd taken gripped her. She lent back against the outside wall of the building and sighed. Silently, tears fell down the side of her face. She hadn't realised they'd come at first and assumed that the wetness had been due to the rain. The falling weather droplets had always had a strange effect on her. It didn't take Kiz long to feel regret for her underhanded tactics in the impromptu fight with Rambo, as she stood out in the falling rain. She was trying to keep her breathing slow and steady and telling herself over and over that he'd deserved it; starting a fight for no good reason. All the while something inside told her that he was right to do so; putting her through her paces was just a part of her retraining. She'd be facing far, far worse out in the field.

She felt conflicted by her emotions, but the sound of the pattering rain was doing wonders to calm the more violent aspect of her thoughts. Instead turning them to bitter memories of times gone by. Her life in service before her actions against her superior.

His name had been Rhodes. She could still remember every minor detail of his face, but whenever she thought of his name it was the blood soaked stitching on his military jacket that she'd recall first. She closed her eyes, pushing tears down her cheeks, while trying to blot out the memories of him. She knew that it had been a mistake, not disobeying his orders, but having the affair with him. She had loved him, a part of her still did; but his order to execute hundreds of innocent lives? She couldn't, wouldn't obey such a thing. Their mark had been in place earlier than expected, along with many civilians, Rhodes had ordered her to blow the bridge anyway; her rigged explosives would've caused a collapse that their involvement couldn't be proven, but she refused. Rhodes and She fought for the explosive devices control, but in the end Kiz had drawn her weapon and shot him; fatally.

When her eyes opened she was started to see someone standing next to her; she'd been so absorbed in the unbidden recollection that she'd not heard their approach. Let alone their presence. She tried not to let any emotions show on her face – as she did not know which emotion would be the most welcome; anger, sorrow, regret. They were all a part of the complexity that made up the being known as Kiz.

"I'm sorry about earlier, it was underhanded and unfair," she spoke regret without thinking.

"Life isn't fair," was the reply she was given.

Rambo clearly hadn't dwelt on the implications of the fight, nor had he over thought her winning tactics. He just wouldn't make the same mistake with her again.

As Rambo stated that life wasn't fair Kiz rose her hand to her face and touched the tender bruise on her cheek; a black eye was inevitable.

"It's just tears and rain," she commented oddly, her hand turning palm up to try and collect the falling drops in her hand, a smile forming on her face. She then looked to her partner, who she noticed for the first time wasn't wearing a shirt over his torso. A pendant hung around his neck; and not the customary dog-tags like she would have expected. The jade trinket piqued her curiosity, but she didn't ask. It was a personal touch Kiz guessed without have too speak about it. Trust had to be given before it was asked for, especially with personal mementos.

Neither of them was at that stage in the game just yet.

"I'll see you in the morning," Kiz stated turning on her heel and heading back inside the bunk room; her anger had dissipated into a warped mixture of depressed serenity. Her recollections always weight heavily on her; the guilt was hers to bare. Rambo said nothing in return, and Kiz was already growing to know him well enough not to have expected one.

She felt the calling of her bed luring her; knowing that the next day would bring even more difficult trials for her bruised body. It didn't take her long to fall asleep and when she did it was deep and dreamless.


End file.
